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A medieval castle, perched high on a rock looking across to the Severn Valley and Breiddon Hills, Powis Castle (Castell Powys) should be high on the list for Slow Travellers. With stunning gardens and beautiful views across the valley, as well as a museum filled with ill-gotten gains, this National Trust owned property is open to the public all year round and is well worth a visit. The screech of peacocks greets the visitor walking up from the carpark to the castle, and immediately noticeable as you arrive is the dusky red stone and prominent red mortar that make this building so attractive and inviting, especially when it is outlined dramatically against an uninterrupted blue sky. Once inside the courtyard the peacocks may treat you to a display of tail, or will simply wander, unperturbed by humans, among the garden tables and benches. The first castle had its origins in the twelfth century, as a result of the conflict between several Welsh principalities, but inevitably played its part in the struggle between Welsh princes and English Kings for dominance over Wales. The castle has been built and rebuilt several times and underwent intensive renovation by Sir Edward Herbert who acquired the Powis estate in 1587. The castle was loyal to the King in the Civil War, besieged and seized by the Parliamentarians in 1644, but returned to the Herbert family following the restoration of Charles II in 1660. In the 18th century the title passed to the Clive family, although part of the inheritance was the stipulation that they should change their name to Herbert. There was a thorough refurbishment of the castle in the early 19th century and again in the early 19th century by George and Violet Herbert. Sadly, they lost two sons, one in WWI and another in WWII, so there was no immediate heir to inherit the estate. In 1952, George Herbert left the castle, gardens and part of the deer park to the National Trust. The interior of the castle illustrates the changes of ownership and style. The heavy Jacobean panelling in many rooms, and the need to prevent the damage caused by ultraviolent light on the precious furnishings, make the whole experience darker and gloomier than is ideal, but nevertheless the rooms and treasures can be enjoyed. The Long Gallery retains its Elizabethan shape and decoration including the trompe l’oeuil panelling and plasterwork and wonderfully wonky floorboards. The Blue Drawing Room has changed very little since 1705. It has blue-green panelling picked out in gold and most of the furniture once belonged to the Clive family. The State Bedroom is in the baroque style with a bed alcove set behind a railing. Also to be admired is the Great Staircase and the many treasures of gilded furniture, tapestries, paintings, fine upholstery, silver, china and precious objects that characterise all stately homes. My eye was caught by the 450 year old sword of state carried before Arthur, Prince of Wales, at Ludlow and the medicine chest that went to the Crimea in 1854 with William Henry Herbert, fresh from Eton in 1854. However, the firescreen with stuffed birds looks distinctly unattractive to modern visitors. The National Trust at Powis is facing much the same dilemmas as other properties across the country as they struggle with how to present and interpret many of the objects acquired, and deeds performed, in the age of imperialism. Here, it is specifically the Clive Museum which has over 1000 objects “acquired” by Robert, Edward and Henrietta Clive from 1744 – 1803. Powis has responded to the emotions and uncomfortable facts raised by the Black Lives Matter movement. Many of the objects were legitimately bought or gifted, but the unpalatable truth is that many were seized, looted and plundered. Prime examples include the palanquin (travelling coach) that belonged to Siraj ud-Daulah of Bengal, seized along with huge quantities of treasure after the battle of Plassey in 1757. The museum also has the tiger’s head finial from the throne of Tipu Sultan, along with his magnificent state tent, made of painted chintz, later appropriated by the Clive family during widespread looting and pillage of his palace after his death during the siege of Srirangatpatam in 1799. Powis has a delicate and painful path to tread as it re-examines these acquisitions of British colonial role. The main attraction of a visit to Powis is undoubtedly the gardens which are truly magnificent and listed in the top twenty of the Great British Gardens guide. It’s not just the unique historical setting, it’s the skill and delicacy of the planting. A team of six full time gardeners and several volunteers keep the estate in impeccable order, ensuring that there is something to delight in every season. The grand Italianate terraces are formed from the solid rock and are part of the baroque gardens which survive almost intact since the 17th and 18th centuries. There is a 30ft high yew hedge and also yew “tumps” dating from the 17th century which have been clipped and shaped and appear as organic sculptures with fascinating architectural interiors. The borders are planted with all manner of unusual herbaceous flowers and the walls of the south-facing Aviary and Orangery have a sub-tropical microclimate for rarer species. More formal gardens lie below the terraces and include pyramid apple trees and a vine archway as well as more traditional cottage garden plants and roses. Set among these gardens is The Bothy – a 3 bedroom holiday home which can be rented throughout the season. The fountain glitters in the sunshine and there are benches to rest and enjoy the tranquility and peace. There is also a gentle and shady Woodland Walk with a mixture of old oaks, horse chestnuts and maples and a gorgeous display of rhododendrons in the Spring. Here there is a lake with irises and areas left for wild flowers to encourage biodiversity. You could happily spend several hours here, drinking in the beauty of the gardens and absorbing many aspects of Britain’s past. A very worthwhile visit. VISITING POWIS CASTLE AND GARDENS How to get to Powis Castle Postcode: SY21 8RF what3words: Public Transport: By train to Welshpool then a 30 minute walk or 5 minute taxi ride from the station. By bus to Welshpool from Shrewsbury or Oswestry, then a 30 minute walk or 5 minute taxi ride from the High Street. Parking: There is plenty of free parking on site When is Castle Powis and Gardens open? Castle and Clive Museum: 12 - 4pm daily Gardens 10am - 5pm daily How much does it cost to visit Powis Castle? Free with NT membership Adult: £10 Children: £5 Family Tickets available Are there any facilities at Powis Castle? Cafes, loos, shop and a second hand bookshop

A popular pedestrian bridge spanning the River Thames in restless central London is not a place you would expect to be able to discover the essence of Slow Travel, but a local artist has found a way to not just highlight the mess created by us visitors but also to encourage us to slow right down as we walk over the busiest river in the UK. The Millennium Bridge is London's newest bridge; a narrow, pedestrian-only crossing from St. Pauls' to the Tate Modern and The Globe; all prime contenders for a place on any visitors London bucket list. Opened in June 2000 it is a lightweight steel suspension bridge, shallow in design so that there are few barriers to ruin the view of those using it to cross the Thames. When it opened in 2000 it swiftly became known as the 'Wobbly Bridge' by locals, as it was discovered that it would wobble with too many people on it, causing everyone to adjust the way they walked to keep their balance. This caused them all to walk in time with each other, making the problem even worse. The bridge was temporarily closed for discreet dampers to be added underneath, which solved the problem. The bridge is now a part of the Thames riverscape and has thousands of visitors each day. It has featured in music videos, been blown up in a Harry Potter film and appeared in Guardians of the Galaxy. The views either side of the Millennium Bridge Most visitors walk along it to admire the views on either side which are impressive - one side is the greens and yellows of Southwark Bridge with the iconic Tower Bridge behind it, the other side is an expanse of the Thames with the rigid angles of the Tate Modern, a misshapen skyscraper or two and which is a very good view to admire the setting sun. The bridge is filled with people taking selfies or trying to photograph the way that the bridge frames St Paul's as a dramatic pathway leading to it, without getting too many other people in the way. What few people do, however, is look down. After all, what could there be to see in the bland metallic grid you are walking on? If you pay attention and look closely enough, you will see little splashes of colour amongst the narrow metallic bars. Initially you may well dismiss them as discarded coloured gum, as I did at first, but on closer inspection, you will see that they are miniature works of art. London artist, otherwise known as 'Ben Wilson the Chewing-Gum Man', spends some of his time lying on the bridge with his paints, creating unique and vivid designs on the chewing gum which has been so carelessly and selfishly discarded by visitors. Designs vary from London scenes to abstract images in bright colours which stand out from their surroundings. He manages to just about escape getting into trouble with the police and the local council, as the gum he is painting is not actually a part of the structure itself. The council may well find it disagreeable, but it is their job to keep the city clean, something they are clearly failing to do adequately - he would have no canvas if there was no gum to paint on. Focusing such lavish attention on the detritus of our society, painting his scenes and designs in such bright colours, is a subtle yet obvious way of highlighting the damage we are causing in these places of mass tourism. There is no lecturing involved though - it is a lighthearted and irreverent way of making a point. Following the trail of this miniscule art leads directly to the Tate Modern, that powerhouse of commercial and divisive modern art. It seems to me to be a subtle taunt at the art that resides within its brutalist walls, which is often created from expensive, blank products with over complicated interpretations, meanings that are hidden to most viewers, and given a value that is often only perceived within the rarified art world. This chewing gum art is created from the everyday, the mundane, the discarded. The bright colours uplift and give joy to the viewer, interpretation is straightforward or not necessary. This is art for the Everyman. It also forces us to see art within the everyday, to focus less on the grand bucket-list vistas of the Thames, but to look down to see what is right in front of us and under our feet. Once you see one, you cross the bridge slowly looking for more; your march across the bridge is dramatically slowed down to a snail‘s pace, you stop to take photos of them and only them - (it is logistically impossible to put yourself in the same photo) so your attention is forced to not be about you but about your immediate surroundings. The art of the Millennium Bridge gives the visitor that rare opportunity to slow down and take it all in, even in central London. The Millennium Bridge is free to use, has wheelchair access and is open all hours. Ben Wilson has also created artworks for the London Parkland Walking Trails - a walk from Muswell Hill to Finsbury Park which follows an old railway line. You can find out more about it, with maps, directions and pictures of his art on the Parkland Trail website >> You can also see more of his art on his Instagram page >>

In central London is the rather unexpected sight of an Egyptian obelisk covered in hieroglyphs, standing on the edge of the river. Flanked by a pair of stylized Sphinx, this small piece of Egyptian history on the Embankment has a long and unusual history, defying the odds to be here at all. Standing 86 feet high, weighing 180 tonnes and made of syenite granite, this obelisk is one of a pair, the other being in New York. The name 'Cleopatra's Needle' is something of a misnomer, as it was created at least 1,400 years before she was born. The obelisks were made over 3,460 years ago from a quarry near Aswan, a city on the banks of the River Nile in southern Egypt. They were made by order of Pharaoh Thutmos III, who reigned from the age of two until his death 54 years later in 1425 BC. Thutmos III had a single column of hieroglyphs carved on three sides: "King of the two countries. He made this tribute to his father Harmachis. These two obelisks he built and stood up and tipped them with gold at the time of his first 30 years festival. As he desired it, he did it. Son of the Sun. He multiplied, Lord of the gods, festivals of the Persea tree in the midst of the temple of the Phoenix; he is his son; he is the sacred and divine body whose limbs extend everywhere. Son of the Sun. Of Harmachis beloved. His father Tum set up his name within the precincts, in the Palace of On, giving him the seat of Seb the dignity of Kepha-ra. Son of the sun. Of the spirits of On beloved - eternal." The obelisks were floated down 700 miles of the Nile and erected in Heliopolis, a scared city filled with temples dedicated to the worship of the sun, and the obelisks were set up in front of one of these temples, where they stood for 14 centuries until Egypt became a province of Rome. During this time, Rameses II added hieroglyphs describing himself as a 'Chastiser of foreign nations', 'Giver of life like the sun' and that 'nothing has been said against him'. In 23BC, the obelisks were transported to the Palace of the Caesars in Alexandria. The palace, or Caesareum of Alexandria, was begun by Cleopatra to honour Julius Caesar, her lover, although they didn't arrive until after she had committed suicide. "This palace stood by the side of the harbour of Alexandria, and was surrounded by a sacred grove. It was ornamented with porticoes, and fitted up with libraries, paintings and statues, and was the most lofty building in the city. In front of this palace Augustus set up the two ancient obelisks which had been made by Thothmes III, and carved by Rameses II, and which, like the other monuments of the Theban kings, have outlived all the temples and palaces of their Greek and Roman successors.” (Cleopatra's Needle - A History of the London Obelisk, with an Exposition of the Hieroglyphics) The obelisks later toppled over, whether by a deliberate act or sea erosion is unknown, and they remained buried face down in the sand, which helped to preserve the hieroglyphics. Napoleon Bonaparte and his troops invaded Egypt in 1798, finally being defeated by the British in 1801, releasing Egypt from French rule. English soldiers wanted a souvenir of their campaign, and tried but failed to remove the obelisk. On the ascension of George IV to the throne in 1820, Egyptian ruler Mehemet Ali gifted him the obelisk. It remained where it was however, as the UK didn't want to pay the shipping costs for such a huge item. Various people offered to pay for it, but each time it was rejected, until 1867 when the land it was on was bought by a Greek businessman, who threatened to break it up for building materials if it was not removed. Explorer and British officer, General Alexander, pleaded for ten years with the Greek businessman not to destroy it, and persuaded his wealthy friend, Professor Wilson, to pay for its transportation to England. In 1877 It was enclosed in a watertight, iron tube and attached to a steam tug, The Olga, with its own crew of six men. Twenty days into the voyage, the ship was caught in a severe storm in the Bay of Biscay and the captain cut the connection. The six crewmen were rescued by a lifeboat, which then tragically sank in the heavy seas. The obelisk was assumed sunk, but soon turned up and was rescued by a Spanish ship, who towed it to their port of Vigo. Three months later, it finally made it to England and in 1878, it was finally put into its current position on the Embankment. Buried underneath it is a Victorian time capsule, containing items such as clothing of the time, newspapers, a portrait of Queen Victoria and, rather bizarrely, pictures of the most beautiful women in the realm. The needle is flanked by a Victorian pair of stylised sphinxes which were originally facing outwards. Turned inwards in error by a contractor, they have never been put back into their correct position. The needle suffered some damage in 1917, when 11 Gotha bombers reached London and bombed the city. One fell on the Victoria Embankment, by Cleopatra’s Needle, rupturing a gas main and killing the driver and two passengers of a passing tram. Shrapnel from the bomb damaged the plinth and tore holes in one of the Sphinxes - the damage is still visible and there is now a small plaque next to the rear foot of the right-hand sphinx explaining the damage and the hole in his paw. VISITING CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE How to get to Cleopatra's Needle Postcode: WC2N 6PA what3words: foam.debate.years Public Transport: Embankment tube station When is Cleopatra's Needle open? The needle is accessible at all times How much does it cost to Cleopatra's Needle? The site is free to visit

A sculpture park set in glorious gardens and the wider rural landscape of the Wiltshire countryside, Roche Court is an ideal place for you to wander at leisure and to absorb both beauty and culture, well away from busy crowds. Roche Court is situated near East Winterslow, about 8 miles north-east of Salisbury. The house itself is very early 19th century, originally built for Lord Nelson, but whose death at Trafalgar meant that he never took up residence there. The park is the culmination of 60 years work by the “grand dame of British sculpture”, Lady Madeleine Bessborough, who originally set up the New Art Centre as a Sloane Street gallery in 1958. In 1994 she decided to relocate to Wiltshire where both fledgling and established artists and sculptors could display their work against a backdrop of open sky, verdant landscape and grazing cows. Today the grounds and exhibition spaces of Roche Court have new and changing exhibits by many distinguished sculptors including Barbara Hepworth, Antony Gormley, Nicholas Pope, Bill Woodrow and Barry Flanagan. You will be welcomed at the front door of the house with a map and information about what to see and how to access each of the indoor galleries and the area of this extensive parkland. The staff then leave you to explore by yourself but are available to answer any questions you may have. The house itself is not open to the public but there are works to see indoors. Two – The Gallery and The Orangery - are connected to the main house, and the visitor can view the exhibits from outside through the entire floor-to-ceiling windows. The Artists House can show smaller works of art and includes a permanent display of Edmund de Waal’s work on the top floor. The Design House, located in the walled garden, is an unusual blend of gallery and living space. It aims to create a domestic space, complete with Aga in the kitchen and wood burning stove in the airy sitting area, and so demonstrate how easily paintings, ceramics, sculpture and exquisitely designed furniture can be part of everyday living. You may be lucky enough to meet some of the gallery assistants, themselves practising artists like Josh Kerley, an emerging young glass artist and designer, who will happily talk to you about the purpose and exhibits in the building if you want more information. On a sunny day, the real joy of Roche Court is the outdoor space. Sculptures seem to emerge from every area – some are almost hidden by the greenery and you have to squeeze your way along almost hidden paths to find them. Others, like the Barbara Hepworth abstract series of bronze sculptures called The Family of Man, three of which are currently on display, stand out proudly in the landscape and remind the onlooker of ancient forms like standing stones. You never know quite what to expect, and this is largely the attraction – you don’t have to understand or correctly interpret each individual piece of sculpture, you just have to enjoy them and appreciate them in their carefully chosen settings. Recognisable shapes like a corkscrew, a fountain pen and a hyacinth are clear enough, but like me, you might struggle with deciding quite how Laura Ford’s My Little Marini or Nicholas Pope’s Apostles Piss Font came to be conceived. But that’s part of the fun – trying to work out what might have been in the sculptor’s mind as he/she created the work. An unusual work is by Paul Roberts-Holmes called Quaba-La, Found Metal, made up of various bits of old agricultural machinery – disc brakes, old chains, a clutch plate, scissors – all discarded pieces of iron and steel, which have been transformed into an intricate grid and welded together. All these are displayed against a gently rolling bucolic background of predominantly deciduous trees with herds of cattle munching away in the distance. The gardens themselves are delightful in their own right, not immaculately or artificially manicured, but instead allowing largely herbaceous plants to display their flowers in full glory. There are woodland areas too, in June abundant with cow parsley, wild garlic and wild flowers, and a small pond with water lilies. There are benches to pause and consider some of the sculptures for longer periods. It’s possible that you might meet the Director, Madeleine Bessborough (and her gentle Great Dane, Theo), who is very willing to talk to you about the origins of the park and any of the exhibits that particularly interest you. The exhibits change, but let’s hope that Barry Flanagan’s Large Left-Handed Drummer in bronze stays put because this bronze (otherwise interpreted as “A mad march hare banging a drum”) is a huge attraction. He’s tall, loose-limbed, dramatic and very clearly enjoying himself making music, so you will enjoy him too. Most of the exhibits are for sale. Currently John the Baptist by Nicholas Pope will set you back £65,000 (+VAT) but there are some delightful limited edition Roche Plates that feature designs by artists like Richard Deacon who have a longstanding relationship with the New Art Centre. You can purchase these for £28.80. You will probably spend two to three hours here – there is no café, refreshment area or picnic area so bring your own water for a hot day. For children there is often a paper Sculpture Hunt issued by the Roche Court Educational Trust which simplifies and explains some of the sculptures and gets them to think and discuss what they see. There can also be advice on making maquettes of their own at home. It’s a fascinating place and you can take what you want from it – you can get fully absorbed in the sculptures, the thought processes behind them, their creation, the materials used and why, their construction - or you can simply relax and enjoy the shapes and designs within the rural landscape and delightful gardens. VISITING ROCHE COURT How to get to Roche Court Address: Roche Court East Winterslow Salisbury, Wiltshire SP5 1BG what3words: Public Transport: There are regular buses from Salisbury, Southampton and Eastleigh to East Winterslow. Parking: There’s a free carpark on site. Approach the gates carefully and they will open automatically. When is Roche Court open? Monday – Saturday 11am – 4pm Booking is essential Please e-mail nac@sculpture.uk.com with the date and time you would like to book, how many people you will be and your contact number. How much does it cost to visit Roche Court? Amazingly, it’s free, but donations are very welcome and go towards the work of the Roche Court Educational Trust. Are there any facilities at Roche Court? There are loos but no café area. Winterslow has a small shop; the nearest pub is The Silver Plough at Pitton. Which is the nearest town to Roche Court? Salisbury is just a few miles away. Read our Salisbury City Guide for other places to visit, independently owned accommodation, restaurants and shops and much more.

The Wakes is an historic house in the village of Selborne that was once home to the pioneering 18th century English naturalist Gilbert White. Besides being dedicated to White’s life, The Wakes is also home to the personal collections of Frank Oates, Victorian explorer and naturalist, and his nephew Captain Lawrence Oates, whom we all know of as the hero of the ill fated Antarctic expedition of 1912. This is a fantastic museum and one definitely not to be missed. It seems a little incongruous to have an 18th century naturalist sharing a museum with a 20th century heroic explorer, Captain Lawrence Oates, and his uncle Frank Oates. Gilbert White is famous for his seminal work, Natural Histories and Antiquities of Selborne, the fourth most published book in the English language, after the Bible, the works of Shakespeare and Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress. His house, in the village of Selborne, is now home to their shared museum. Selborne, Hampshire, in the south of England, is a quintessentially English village. Deep in the countryside and full of beautiful quirky old houses, Selborne has a Grade I listed church and is a stop on the Writers Way, which also features Jane Austen’s house in Chawton, just a ten minute drive away. The museum is on the one main road straggling through the village, a busy and traffic filled road which seems incompatible with the peaceful houses and expansive countryside on either side. The house is called ‘The Wakes’, and was where he spent most of his life, as well as where he wrote Natural Histories. The house was on the market in the 1950s, an appeal was issued in The Times for funds to pay the house to turn it into a museum to Gilbert White. The appeal was seen by Robert Oates, a cousin of the Captain, who agreed to fund the museum if there would be a space for his extensive Oates collection. So the three of them now share a museum space, and although it seems an unlikely combination, it also sounded intriguing, and I just had to go and see it for myself. GILBERT WHITE, GEORGIAN PASTOR-NATURALIST The museum starts in a large room filled with paintings, exhibits and information panels which acts as an introduction and an explanation of why all three men are together in the same museum. It then leads through to the house as it would have been when Gilbert lived there, starting with a charming little parlour, which dates from the 15th century. With a fire in the grate and fresh flowers on the polished round table, the room contains some of his bird specimens and portraits, and sets the ambience of a civilised, rural environment. A long corridor leads to the ‘Exploration Room’, a large sunny room with balloons descending from the ceiling, interactive panels where you can listen to different types of bird song and watch a BBC video about the life of Gilbert White. A large table in the centre is filled with kids activities for all ages, all connected to The Wakes and its outside areas, as well as a play area with cushions, books and more under the huge bay window, to keep children occupied while you watch the video, listen to the bird calls, and read all about Gilbert White’s life on the information panels around the room. Gilbert White is known as the world’s first ecologist and the man who invented birdwatching. He was born in Selborne in 1720, the eldest of 11 children, spending his childhood outdoors, in a woodland area known locally as ‘The Hangers’. The Hangers was where Gilbert White spent much of his childhood. ‘Hanger’ comes from the Anglo Saxon word, ‘Hangr’, which simply means ‘woodland’. After gaining a degree at Oriel College, Oxford, he returned to live at The Wakes, which was his grandfather’s house at the time. He was ordained in 1749 and undertook several curacies, riding around the countryside on his pony and recording his observations of the world around him. Always a keen gardener, in 1751 he started recording notes about the weather, his garden, details about the soil and seed germination in what he called his Garden Kalendar. He recorded scientific details about the weather using a thermometer, weather vane and barometer, the results of which are still invaluable to scientists today. He developed the 20 acre gardens at The Wakes within a budget, building a ha-ha and growing huge amounts of vegetables with which to feed his neighbours; he was the first man to grow potatoes in the area, recognising them as an edible crop that would feed the poor. He grew formidable quantities of food – 650 kale plants are recorded in one of his journal entries. He baptised, married and buried the villagers, gave money to the poor, paid for road upkeep and worried about how the weather would affect the harvest. He held frequent parties for his neighbours and friends, was obsessed with growing cucumbers and melons in his hotbeds and would spend his time pickling and brewing his own ale and wine. The next room, the dining room is a space of beautiful proportions. Filled with sun, it contains bookshelves with every version of his text ever published, as well as his original manuscript, a huge sepia tome with every bit of paper covered in his neat, copper script handwriting. It is rather awe inspiring to see it there, the foundation of modern ecology, ornithology and naturalism, in the place where he wrote it. Described by Coleridge as a ‘sweet, delightful book’, it is compiled of his letters to other naturalists, and is said to give a wonderful picture of a pre-industrial England, where White ‘simply observed nature with a sharp eye and wrote about it lovingly’ (Durrell). Published in 1789, it has been continuously in print ever since, and is considered a masterpiece of literature as well as science. You can read it for free on Project Gutenberg >> With a red brick fireplace, a massive scrubbed kitchen table covered in game, a dresser full of Wedgewood and glassware, the kitchen is a delightful room, full of charm and with a real feeling that this could be a place of busy food preparation, bottling, pickling and preserving. It is painted a bright indigo blue, which they believed would ward off the flies in Georgian times. The small writing table comes from Oriel College in Oxford, where Gilbert White did his degree, as well as becoming one of the senior proctors. The chair belonged to White. Upstairs is his bedchamber, the only room in the house that is kept shrouded in darkness. This is to protect the embroidered bed hangings, made for Gilbert White by his four aunts, all hand stitched with naturally dyed yarns onto a woolen background. He kept his wine in this room, in a cupboard, to keep it warm. The small writing table comes from Oriel College in Oxford, where Gilbert White did his degree, as well as becoming one of the senior proctors. The chair belonged to White. Gilbert’s study is a surprisingly small room, painted a deep pink colour and filled with heavy, dark wood furniture. A view over rooftops rather than his beautiful garden seemed surprising, but then I couldn’t help thinking he had chosen it deliberately, to avoid the distraction of always looking out of the window when he was meant to be writing. His study has been recreated to show his many and varied interests. It is believed that the desk was actually his. We then headed out to the gardens, the place he studied nature in such depth that it provided the details and inspiration for his book. With the trees of The Hangers as the elevated background, the gardens have been re-created to follow his descriptions. There’s a vegetable garden, orchard, shrubbery, flower gardens and a landscaped garden. We walked around, exploring all of the areas, watching the butterflies drifting through the September flowers, the yellow leaves softly falling to the ground below, listening to the sounds of birds rustling in the undergrowth, watching squirrels foraging and charging up and down trees. It is very pretty yet very practical, and feels so much more productive than other gardens still preserved from that time. His landscaped garden was laid out to mimic the great landscaped gardens of his day, and it is recorded that he had visited some of the grandest ones of the time, but he didn’t have the extensive budget required for one of his own. He used the same principle of drawing the eye to a focal point in the distant garden, but where the wealthy would use a series of elaborate features to draw the eye, he had 6 simple five-bar gates in a line, a symbol of rural ordinariness rather than extravagance. Where they had huge marble statues as the focal point, he used a flat one made of wood, and he used oil jars instead of marble urns. I couldn’t help but feel he was gently mocking the wealthy landowners, as if he was telling them that it was nature that mattered, the changing natural world of the garden, not the adornments and embellishments that they could impose upon it. The gardens, the parlour, the kitchen, the dining room, his study, all of the most beautiful rooms, so perfectly proportioned, all so comfortable yet modest, practical and functional yet elegant. I loved them all. I hadn’t known what to expect, having arrived with no assumptions, but was so impressed by what I saw. I found his kindness and gentle humour shone through. A man who can call his pony ‘Mouse’ and who after being horribly travel sick on a coach trip to Oxford, gifted his companion a huge china tureen as way of apology, is a man of subtle wit, and it is so apparent in this wonderfully curated museum. His modesty is verified by his gravestone, which we found in the churchyard opposite. Requesting to be buried outside rather than in the church, he has a low, humble grave in the shadow of the church, becoming a part of the earth he nurtured, studied and wrote so lovingly about. Having known next to nothing about the man before I visited The Wakes, I left with a lasting memory of his beautiful home, his kindness to his neighbours, his gentle humour and above all, his love for nature. I liked the man enormously. FRANK OATES, VICTORIAN NATURALIST AND EXPLORER On the top floor of the house, is the Frank Oates Gallery. A naturalist too, he was the Uncle of the Antarctic explorer, Captain Lawrence Oates. Born in 1840, he suffered ill health whilst doing his degree at Oxford, and had to leave. He went on several expeditions to warmer climes to improve his lung problems, and was made a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society due to the specimens and knowledge he acquired. Always a keen adventurer despite his health, he undertook ‘a little trip’ in 1873 to Africa. A massive expedition, he was one of the first Europeans to see Victoria Falls when it was in full flood. Unfortunately he died of fever on his way home from this trip, buried by the roadside in the only soft bit of ground his companions could find. Continuing their journey, the rest of the expedition noticed that Frank’s dog was missing, and they found him waiting at the grave, a full 80 miles away from where he had escaped. Frank Oates died at the young age of 35, but had achieved so much in that time. After his death, his extensive journals and letters were published and he has had 38 botanical and animal species named after him. He is remembered as a man of moral courage and fortitude, who defied ill health to pursue his passions. The two rooms dedicated to Frank are beautifully done. With some of his paintings on display, from age seven to when he was an adult, it is possible to see his skill even from a young age, and how it developed over time, which I found compelling. There is a map of his African expedition, such a long route that you have to scroll the map along, as well as spears, shields and other assorted artefacts that he collected from his many travels. There are two areas for children in the Frank Oates rooms, both colourful and enticing for small people. A simple wagon, the same type he would have used, contains a screen showing footage of what the arduous journey across Africa would have been like to reach Victoria Falls. There are two fantastic kids areas, one in a giant ‘jungle’ tree where there are activities to do, the second in the room about his African adventures, where they have a small straw thatched hut to hide in, full of cuddly toys and with a small screen teaching them about life in Africa. The museum then leads to a room with details about the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust, as a segue into the subsequent rooms about Lawrence Oates. CAPTAIN LAWRENCE OATES There are only three rooms in the museum dedicated to Captain Lawrence Oates, but the experience of his presence there is nonetheless very powerful. After a visit to the rest of the museum, to move to the life of Oates seems incongruous, until you make the connection that it is again about the power of nature, albeit in a different capacity. Born in London in 1880, Lawrence Edward Grace Oates was born into a wealthy family, his birth recorded into a diary kept by his mother, Caroline, with the words, ‘baby is born at 6.20’. This diary is on display in the museum, propped open and resting on a silk scarf. He was an unhealthy child, suffering from bad lungs which got worse when it was cold and damp. The first gallery establishes the character of the man through his delight in all sports, his fairly mediocre record at Eton College, which he had to leave early due to pneumonia, and his time spent at home with horses. There is a letter on display which he wrote as a small child in 1887, in large, but rather elegant copperplate handwriting. He was determined to join the army, and not academic enough to apply to Sandhurst, he joined the Militia in 1898. The Boer War broke out the following year and he was able to get a commission with the 6th Inniskilling Dragoons. In the Boer War in South Africa Oates got the nickname “No Surrender” Oates for his refusal to surrender to a much superior Boer force, and earned himself a recommendation for the Victoria Cross. There are transcripts of his letters home from South Africa, complaining about the food and asking for tobacco to be sent to him, but saying that he was enjoying himself immensely. A gunshot wound in the left thigh left him with a permanent limp, and the left leg shorter than the other. He remained with the army, being promoted to Captain in 1906 and serving in India, Ireland and Egypt. By 1909 he was getting bored, and from service in India, on impulse he wrote to Robert Scott and asked to join the planned expedition to the Antarctic, offering to contribute £1,000 to the expedition’s funds. The transcript of his letter to his mother is on his display, ‘confessing’ that he had volunteered to go on the mission and weighing up the pros and cons of his decision. He was chosen because of his vast experience with horses although, surprisingly, did not get to choose them and when he first encountered them he described them as ‘a wretched load of crocks.’ The expedition left Cardiff in the Terra Nova in June 1910. In the second gallery, the sounds of an Antarctic blizzard echo around the pale blue walls, immersing the visitor into the freezing cold of the approach to the South Pole. Poignant artefacts from the Terra Nova are on display, the Royal Yacht Squadron burgee which was flown from the masthead, a life belt, a caricature drawn of Oates who was known as ‘the soldier’ and a letter from Oates to his mother, written from the ship. Scott’s team set off from base camp on the 900 mile journey in November 1911. Some of the clothing and equipment displayed in the gallery leaves modern visitors aghast. Scott’s balaclava looks pathetically thin and inadequate against the elements, the sledge used to pull equipment looks rickety and fragile, one of Oates’ snow shoes seems to be made of rattan. A figure in polar clothing leans forward into the wind against a backdrop of snow covered mountains with little protection against the elements compared to cold weather clothes of modern times. Despite all of Oates’ efforts to care for them, the ponies all died, leaving the team dangerously dependent on dogs and their own strength. But Oates’ willingness to do all that was asked of him meant that Scott had no hesitation in choosing him as one of the five men set to reach the actual Pole. On a packing case is an assortment of slides taken by the expedition photographer, Herbert Ponting, which visitors can look at. They show scenes of life during the expedition, the Terra Nova stuck in ice, Oates with his ponies, members lying on their wooden bunks surrounded by their kit. ‘A Very Gallant Gentleman’, portraying Oates leaving the tent, by John Charles Dolman was commissioned by the Inniskilling Dragoons and exhibited in 1914. The team reached the South Pole in January 1912, only to realise that the Norwegian flag already there meant that Amundsen had beaten them in the race. Dejected, the team turned homeward. The weather conditions turned against them, the expected dog-teams failed to meet them and there was a shortage of fuel. By now, Oates’ old Boer war wound was troubling him and his feet were suffering through frostbite. He believed that his condition was slowing down the others, and in an attempt to save his colleagues he stepped out of the tent saying quietly, “I am just going outside and I may be some time”, words which resonate with all brought up in the belief of the power and heroism of the British Empire. The expedition never returned and a search party found the bodies of all but Oates, lying in the tent, surrounded by their diaries and personal effects, just 11 miles from the nearest depot. The ‘Sutton Collection’ is on display – items found by the search party and brought back. These include cans of pemmican, cutlery, a pewter dining set and a small case which belonged to Oates. Rusted and aged, they bring the distressing reality of that event to prominence; this was not just an expedition in history books, this was tragically real. A letter from Dr. Wilson which was found next to his body in the tent, addressed to Mrs Oates and telling her how bravely Oates had sacrificed himself for them, despite knowing that he is going to die too, is a heartbreaking read. On a wall is a small handwritten receipt from Dr. Jaegers of Regent Street for clothes ordered by Mrs Oates for clothes for Lawrence to be sent out to him in the Antarctic. He had already been dead for several months by the time she did so. The exhibition ends with a look at the benefits that the expedition provided to science, which was their primary objective for going. They took samples and photographs which still provide scientists with insights today. An area for kids to dress up in polar clothing and learn about penguins tries to lighten the mood, but the exhibition remains with you even once you have stepped outside into the beautiful grounds of The Wakes. The whole museum was an absolute gem. I was very impressed with the way it had been designed and curated, with plenty for children to do while still being informative for the adults. This is one of the few places where I genuinely believe a parent would have time to look at all of the items and read all of the information panels before the child got bored and started complaining. The rooms are bright and colourful, with the sun streaming in, and immaculately arranged fresh flowers in every room and on every windowsill. The gardens are peaceful yet filled with the activities of nature and the seasons, and it was inspiring to be walking around the same landscape where Gilbert White undertook his studies. There is a sweet little café on site, nice clean loos, free parking, and your entrance tickets last for a whole year. I learnt a huge amount about the affable history of naturalism and I left with a deep and abiding affection for Gilbert White. I can’t recommend it highly enough. VISITING GILBERT WHITE AND THE OATES COLLECTIONS Opening Times 4 January – 17 February, Friday to Sunday, 10.30am - 4.30pm 18 February – 22nd December, Tuesday – Sunday, 10.30am - 4pm Ticket Prices Adult £12 Child (5-16 yrs) £5, Children under 5 go free Family tickets available The gardens and ground floor are accessible to wheelchairs and pushchairs. There is no lift to reach the top floor. Free parking is available next to the Church or further down the High Street. The Wakes Website >>

England is a beautiful country, yet its inhabitants and visitors are restricted from seeing 92% of it, with over half of the country owned by less than 1% of the population. Private landowners keep all of the beauty for themselves, ensuring that only they can access it, jealously guarding it from the masses. A year of lockdowns has shown just how selfish this is, with millions of people deprived of any open space while a single family could have acres upon acres to themselves and the rest of us are crammed into the tiny areas which are left over. It is time for this to change, and there are things you can do to ensure that it does. Forests of towering pines, bluebell woodlands, hedgerow lined open fields, hilltops with views across valleys, meandering rivers and more are all kept from us by the wealthy landowners. These sites contain not just an abundance of beauty and the sounds of nature, but our history too - archaeological sites, crumbling ruins, sites of spiritual and historical significance. “The first man who, having fenced in a piece of land, said "This is mine," and found people naïve enough to believe him, that man was the true founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars, and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows: Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody.” Jean-Jacques Rousseau Discourse on the Origin of Inequality 1755 This land has been stolen from us by the landed gentry - people whose distant ancestors once picked the right side of a battle, who murdered or slept their way into positions of power, who grew rich from the work of the slaves in the colonies, or from the poverty-stricken agricultural labourers on their land - their spoiled and entitled descendants now dictating where we can or can't go, what we are allowed to see, how much access we have to the land our ancestors toiled over. Just twenty-four Dukes own over 1,000,000 acres of England (source). The ordinary people with our small houses and small gardens are only able to visit local parks filled with hundreds of other people, or have to travel miles to access national parks and forests where we are expected to pay to get there, to park there, to follow the rules about where we can go, have specially curated picnic areas, trails, benches and more to keep us away from the depths of the forests where we can't be controlled, where we might feel free. The year of lockdowns has proved just how important access to open spaces is for people; those in flats and without gardens were stuck inside for months with increasing claustrophobia and mental health problems as they could only watch the outside. Their one permitted walk a day was spent in fear of getting too close to other people out for their one permitted walk, 99% of the population trying to avoid each other in the 8% of land they are allowed access too. Sites became overcrowded, over populated, they suffered increasing environmental damage due to the sheer numbers of people visiting them who had nowhere else to go. Right to Roam and Slow Travel What has Right to Roam got to do with Slow Travel? The obvious connection is that with only 8% of the land accessible to us, we are irreparably damaging that 8% by the sheer weight and volume of our numbers. It is never being given a chance to rest or repair, wildlife is being driven out of it and will never return. It is impossible to find peaceful places to roam, to explore, to sit still and listen. Tourist hotspots are often dangerously overcrowded, the roads are filled with vehicles, public footpaths are filled with walkers, public transport is packed with people. All of this makes Slow travelling far harder than it needs to be. We need more space for all of us, not just the elite few. The history of the Right to Roam Movement England has archaic right to roam laws, and the recent update in 2000 did little to improve them. English landowners have always kept the masses off their lands to protect their hunting and fishing rights, but with the Industrial Revolution and the growth of cities which became dirty, lung destroying places, people wanted to be able to escape them on their days off. Rambling societies and walking groups were formed, but found themselves barred from even moorland and hills which had no agricultural purposes. Determined to change this, in 1932 a group of ramblers and members of the Young Communist League organised a mass trespass on the Kinder Scout, a moorland plateau in Derbyshire. Kinder Scout was just a small part of the lands owned by the Duke of Devonshire, who was determined to keep his thousands of acres for grouse shooting for fellow landowners and industrialists. Protestors widely publicised a rally in the village of Hayfield as a smokescreen. Most of the police force descended on the village, while about 400 people approached the Kinder Scout from several directions in a coordinated walk. Five were arrested and given prison sentences. “We ramblers, after a hard week’s work, [living] in smoky towns and cities, go out rambling on weekends for relaxation, for a breath of fresh air, and for a little sunshine. And we find, when we go out, that the finest rambling country is closed to us. Because certain individuals wish to shoot for about ten days per annum, we are forced to walk on muddy crowded paths, and denied the pleasure of enjoying, to the utmost, the countryside.” (Benny Rothman, Protest Organiser) A later protest saw 10,000 people show up at nearby Winnats Pass. These acts of civil disobedience led to the National Parks legislation, long-distance footpaths and eventually, the Countryside Code. In 2000, the Countryside and Rights of Way Act (CRoW) came into being, which opened a few areas of the country as open land for free access for all (giving us the 8% access we currently have). One of the problems with this is that it only benefits the people who live near these areas. People can travel, but then you end up with increased congestion, pollution and overcrowding. What is needed is for all landowners to allow access to their wild areas across the country - their forests, woodlands, rivers and unfarmed fields. The wealthy landowners have beautiful woodlands and ruins that they don't even bother to visit, just breeding grounds for the birds they wish to kill in shooting season. Most of them have acres just sitting there, untouched, unvisited and unappreciated. They selfishly refuse to share, either fencing off whole tracts of land, or prosecuting people who wander through under ridiculous laws - you can be charged with trespass even if you didn't know that the land was private - so landowners can not bother to put up adequate signs, and yet you can still be charged. Incredibly, 97% of the rivers of England are off-limits to its population. Barbed wire is stretched from bank to bank, ensuring that no-one can swim or sail down a river, just to protect fishing rights. The wealthy are refusing to share the land and water so that they can kill animals and fish for fun - for some reason their 'sports' seen as far more important than anyone else's less murderous hobbies. Other countries, such as Scotland, Norway, Estonia and others have a far more enlightened approach to the right to roam. There are still landowners who can make money from the land, but crucially, they do not have the right to exclude. People can not only walk on the land, they can camp, swim, cycle and kayak. This does come with responsibilities of care of the land on the part of the public, but people who grow up in these countries are taught from a young age how to treat their environment. When people grow up with this knowledge, when they are allowed as much contact with the land as they want, they are more invested in keeping it unspoilt, they feel a sense of connection with it and a duty to preserve it. When people are treated as if they are trespassers who have no right to be on land, even if it is in their local area, they will treat it with contempt because they have nothing to lose in doing so. They know they will not be allowed to return, they know they are not wanted and not welcome, they know that the rich landowners look down on them as 'common little oiks', and so they will act accordingly. HOW CAN WE CHANGE THE RIGHT TO ROAM LAWS? The aim is not to take the land away from the landowners, it is to stop them excluding us from it. The first thing you can do is sign up to righttoroam.org.uk who have a whole website dedicated to this issue. They provide resources to help, and answer any obvious questions. When you walk on public footpaths through private property, take some of the Right to Roam posters (which you can download from their website) and attach them to any private, no trespassing signs you may see. Write to your MP, write to your local landowners, write to your local paper. Extinction Rebellion plan 'This Land is Your Land' events of Mass Trespass. I am not a huge fan of XR, but on this aspect I agree with them wholeheartedly. Join in one of the events and get the landowners to wake up. Make a point of following the Countryside Code, so that landowners know that we can respect our land - they just have to respect us in return, and stop treating us as a threat.

The Mithraeum in central London is one of the most important archaeological discoveries ever found in the city. Deep underneath the Bloomberg Building, at what was once street level, this temple to the Roman God Mithras was found purely by chance after the devastation caused by World War II. Now open to the public and free to visit, this is an amazing chance to see the ruins of this 1,800 year old temple to the cult of Mithras. The Roman presence in London is well known - after all they founded the city of Londinium on the River Thames as the capital of Roman Britain, which swiftly became its largest city. By the 2nd century AD it had a population of about 60,000 with its own amphitheatre and forum-basilica. Little evidence exists of the Roman occupation - London remains our largest city and has been built upon many times over the centuries, with layer upon layer of buildings, debris and settlements covering up the original Roman buildings. It wasn't until the Luftwaffe heavily bombed London during World War II that the remains of the Mithraeum temple were found, with most of the surrounding area being utterly destroyed. An archaeological excavation took place, but it wasn't until the final day of the dig that they found a sculpted head of the God Mithras, and realised that it was a temple dedicated to him. The cult of Mithras is a fascinating one. Founded 2,000 years ago, it was popular between the 1st - 4th centuries AD, particularly amongst the Roman army, but was suppressed and finally quashed by Christianity by the end of the 4th century. The religion was based around the worship of the god Mithras, an Iranian god who had also been worshipped in other religions from around 1400BC. The Romans had adapted the religion to form their own new one, creating a complex mystery religion of secret rites carried out in underground temples. The central story behind Mithraism is Mithras killing a bull. The bull slaying scene, know as the ‎Tauroctony, is the main image in every mithraeum that has been uncovered across the western parts of the Roman Empire. The slaying takes place in a cave after Mithras has hunted and then ridden the bull. He carries it into a cave and slaughters it, then shares the banquet with the sun god Sol. Sometimes the cavern is surrounded by a circle, on which the twelve signs of the zodiac appear. Few written texts survive, so the information that archaeologists have is based primarily on the temples they have excavated and the artefacts found in them. The architecture of the Mithraeum provides some valuable clues. Astrological symbols and signs of the zodiac have been found in the temples, with the temple itself representing the whole cosmos. The roof and walls correspond to the sky, so being in a Mithraeum was intended to highlight your insignificance in the place of the great universe, as well as the fact that as a worshipper of Mithras, who had the ultimate control over the cosmos, you are given a beneficial role. Mithras had arranged and organised the whole cosmos, and it was he who kept it in existence. There were a variety of rituals connected to this secret, male only cult. Light and sound effects as well as the use of incense would have created an intense atmosphere in the smoke-filled windowless temples, as they watched actors act out the story of Mithras killing the bull in the holy cave. There were seven grades of member and to pass from one to the other you had to undergo a series of ordeals, with many Mithraeums having an 'ordeal pit' in which to make the blindfolded initiates suffer extremes of temperature or life threatening peril. Secret handshakes were used to identify fellow worshippers, and much of the secrets of the cult were passed on verbally, which is why there is so little information available to us. As the central tenet of the religion is the killing of the bull, feasts were held in the temples to commemorate this, and most mithraeum were actually arranged as dining rooms. A visit to the London Mithraeum starts with entry to the Bloomberg Space, a private company who own the building above the temple. The room has a changing exhibition of art works, usually connected to the history of the area. When I visited pre-lockdowns you could just wander in, but now you have to pre-book your visit, even though it is still free. Before you descend into the temple, there is an impressive display of 610 finds to view on one of the walls. Coins, bowls, writing tablets, broches, amulets, even a shoe are on display, many of them in excellent condition. As well as the Mithraeum, the remains of 49 Roman buildings were found during the excavations of 1953, which tell a story of life in Roman Britain - not just for the followers of Mithras but also for the rest of the population. There is a rare find of a piece of Roman door from about 43 - 100AD, preserved by the water logged soil from the nearby River Walbrook. 407 writing tablets were found - the one on display here is the oldest evidence of commercial transaction in the Roman city of London and can be dated to 8th January 57BC acknowledging the debt of one freedman to another. There is an amber amulet imported from the Baltics for its magical powers and carved into the shape of a gladiators helmet. Hundreds of Roman shoes were found in the area, mostly made from leather, but on display is a wooden one, which would have been worn by someone who worked in muddy or wet ground. After viewing the finds, you then descend into a dark room which is lit with symbols of the cult of Mithras. You will be called when it is time to enter the actual temple. Try to get to the front of the queue so that you can stand front and centre of the light show on the platform. In a darkened room, the temple ruins can be seen before clever lighting and smoke infill the gaps for you, bringing the temple to life and giving you some indication of how the sound and light would have impacted the worshippers in the temple all those years ago. Afterwards, you can then wander around the outside of the ruins and inspect them at your leisure. N.B - during times of social distancing, the sound and light show does not run, so you can just go down the visit the temple when you wish. Allow about 30-40 minutes for your visit, less if there is no sound and light show. VISITING THE LONDON MITHRAEUM How to get to the Mithraeum Postcode: EC4N 8AA what3words: deeply.scar.snow Public Transport: The nearest tube/train station is Canon Street which is about a one minute walk from the Mithraeum. When is the London Mithraeum open? Tuesday – Saturday 10am - 6pm Sundays 12 - 5pm First Thursday of the month 10am - 8pm Closed Mondays, Christmas & New Year bank holidays How much does it cost to visit the Mithraeum? The site is free to visit, although you may have to pre-book your visit depending on social distancing rules in place at the time. Are there any facilities at the Mithraeum? There are public loos but no dining facilities. You will find plenty of shops, cafes and restaurants within a minutes walk. See our London City Guide for further information on locally owned accommodation, restaurants and shops, further places to visit and things to do.

Heale Gardens are eight acres of tranquility, birdsong and gently running streams in the Woodford Valley. Open to the public five days a week, they are the perfect spot for the Slow Traveller to wander through an 'English Country Garden' in near solitude. Heale House is a 16th century, privately-owned house just outside Middle Woodford in the Woodford Valley, about 4 miles outside Salisbury and just 4 miles from Stonehenge. The Woodford Valley is a beautiful place; three small villages which follow the meandering path of the River Avon, villages of thatched cottages, lichen clad churches and old village halls surrounded by hills of woods and open farmland. A visit here can feel like a step back in time. The house is 16th century, a delightfully quirky, unpretentious manor house. Built by Sir William Green, it was given to his daughter as a wedding present in 1533. It changed hands several times over the following centuries with the occupants making several changes to the structure, until a fire devastated much of it in 1835. Sensitively rebuilt on the original foundations, it is now a beautiful, wisteria-clad building of mellow red brick with a dressed stone façade, tall ornate doorways and windows of gently bowing glass panes. Its claim to fame is that Charles II spent 6 days hiding here in 1651 when he was on the run from parliamentary forces after his defeat at the Battle of Worcester. 'The Monarchs Way' is the 625 mile route he took to escape to France (which can now be followed as a long distance footpath) and it enters the area through Grovely Woods, going through nearby Stoford and Stapleford before following the Avon into Middle and then Lower Woodford. At the time, the house was owned by Katherine Hyde, widow of the MP Lawrence Hyde who was loyal to the Crown. He arrived with his servants and then made a great show of leaving by riding around the district and visiting Stonehenge, before returning secretly, known only to Mrs Hyde. He hid there for 6 days while plans were made to find a ship which would take him to France and safety. The house is sadly not open to the public as it is a private family home, but it makes a beautiful backdrop to the gardens, giving them a focal point. The full eight acres are not available to the public, but I think they have allowed us into the best bits. There are discreet signs telling you where you can and can't go - small and unobtrusive enough not to ruin your photos, obvious enough so that you know exactly where you are welcome. A visit to the gardens starts with your entrance down the long, tree-lined driveway, typical of so many stately homes. A small car park is at the end and the entry to the plant centre and coffee shop, where you pay for entrance to the gardens. It is all very low key and sets the perfect tone for the peaceful gardens. Walking through a small wooden gate leads you to your first impressive look over the landscape. Small wooden bridges cross the shallow river and there is an abundance of plants and trees to draw the eye in every direction. You can explore as you wish, there is no set path to follow and there are plenty of places to just sit and admire the view or listen to the sounds of the river. There is a Japanese theme to the first part of the gardens, with the presence of an authentic Japanese Tea House, which is Grade II listed. It is a lovely building made of pale wood with ornate carvings and a thatched roof. A strong torrent of water emerges from underneath it through a small brick lined channel - a remnant of the 17th century water-meadow irrigation system. Next to the tea house is a red lacquered bridge, known as the Nikko Bridge, which crosses the Avon to a field filled with small goats. The bridge is intertwined with white and purple wisteria providing a vivid splash of colour amongst all the greens around it, and the smooth brass of the knobs glisten in the sunshine. The Japanese Garden also contains two stone temple lanterns, which emerge from an area of wildflower planting, their smooth and weathered edges blending in to their surroundings. The whole Japanese Garden was planted in 1915, with the elements all imported from Japan and laid out according to a Japanese garden design. It has changed somewhat since then after being neglected during World War II, but I like that it is less formal than it probably was and is more in keeping with the English countryside around it. There are small formal gardens near the house with immaculately cut hedges and a perfect grass lawn without a single weed that I can only dream of having. To one side of the house is the Grade II listed 'boat terrace', a decorative landing area where you descend a few steps and can sit on a bench surrounded by plants and watch the river flowing by. My favourite garden is the Tunnel Garden, which seems to be a mix of formal planting and kitchen garden. Divided into quarters with a fish pond at the centre, the tunnels are walkways of apple and pear trees which form delightful bowers to walk under. Planted in 1965, they are mature enough to provide shade underneath, their gnarled branches with fresh green leaves sheltering you from the overhead sun. They must look fantastic in autumn when the fruit is ripening. There are other small garden areas, such as the sundial garden, and the one left to go wild with tall grasses and the odd beautiful flower popping through which must be left over from when the area was planted more formally. The gardens are small but lovely, with the low lying River Avon tributaries as a focal point and the backdrop of densely wooded hills making you feel as if you are in an isolated bubble of discreetly managed nature. The owners of the house thoughtfully provide plenty of benches around the gardens where you can just sit and appreciate your surroundings - you don't feel as if you are under any pressure to move on and that you are welcome to take your time. Your visit ends going back through the tea rooms. The food is good and a reasonable price - tea is served in tea pots with delicate china cups and sandwiches are generous and freshly made. You can sit indoors in the tasteful pale room, or outdoors by the river where a cheeky robin has no qualms about landing on your table to steal a few crumbs. The exit is through the small garden centre where the plants are on sale for a very good price and you can take home your own little piece of Heale Gardens. VISITING HEALE GARDENS How to get to Heale Gardens Postcode: SP4 6NU what3words: warp.bravo.stiff Public Transport: From Salisbury, take the 201 bus towards Amesbury, get off at Avon Meadows and then it is only a 10 min walk to Heale Garden. Find timetable >> Parking: There is a free car park on site When is Heale Gardens open? Usually 11am - 4pm, Wednesday - Sunday. Check the website before setting out. How much does it cost to visit Heale? £6 per adult and £3 per child. Are there any facilities at Heale Gardens? There is a tea room and loos. Useful tips for visiting Heale House The gardens are open in every season and apparently are amazing during early Spring when the snowdrops are out, when I believe you may need to pre-book your visit. My photos were all taken on a visit during late May. Tours with the head gardener can be booked, as can group visits. It is sometime possible to book a visit on a day they are normally closed - you need to email to check availability. Dogs and picnics are not permitted. There are no play areas or facilities specifically for kids - which is great for keeping the place peaceful! Heale House website >> Which is the nearest town to Heale House Gardens? Salisbury is the nearest town. See our Salisbury City Guide for details on how to get to Salisbury, locally owned accommodation, restaurants and shops, further places to visit and things to do.

The Bulford Kiwi is a large depiction of a kiwi cut into the chalk of Salisbury Plain by members of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force in 1919 above Bulford Ranges in Wiltshire. It makes a great place for a walk into the surrounding woods and into the remnants of the World War I trenches - both German and Allied, which the troops used for practice. HISTORICAL BACKGROUND OF THE BULFORD KIWI New Zealanders had originally arrived at Sling Camp on Beacon Hill in 1914 to train for combat in the Great War. Soldiers from here were sent to serve in the disastrous Gallipoli campaign in 1915. More thousands of NZ troops arrived in 1916 and trained here on the hillside for combat on the Western Front. Sling Camp had four sub-camps – Auckland, Wellington, Canterbury and Otago – each with their own HQ and staff. At the base of the hill was the YMCA, which included a cinema for recreation hours. It was not, however, a popular billet. Private Stewart Callaghan wrote to his sister in 1917 “This is a rotten place”. When the war ended many of the troops returned here to await repatriation. However, there were no troop ships immediately available, and frustration soon set in amongst those desperate to get home. There was overcrowding in the camp, influenza deaths, mundane military routines and great dissatisfaction. In March 1919 a canteen and the Officers Mess were looted, and a few hundred soldiers rioted. The commanding officers promptly decided to keep the men occupied with the project of cutting out a giant emblem of their homeland into the chalk of the hill. The design was executed by Sergeant-Major Percy Blenkarne, a drawing instructor in the Education Staff, from a sketch of a stuffed kiwi specimen in the British Museum. The troops finally got to close the gates of Sling Camp and head home in November 1919. For a while the Kiwi was maintained by the Kiwi Polish Company. During WWII it was camouflaged with leaf mould to avoid Germain aircraft using it as a navigation marker in raids over Britain. Local Scouts removed the mould in 1948 and fresh chalk was added. The New Zealand government declined to maintain it in the 1950s and again in the 1980s, much to the contempt of the New Zealand army veterans. In 2017 it was designated as a Scheduled Monument, and in 2018, 100 tons of chalk were ferried by Chinook helicopter to resurface the site. The British Army and Defence Infrastructure Organisation now maintain the Kiwi with some support from community groups and the New Zealand High Commission. VISITING THE BULFORD KIWI To see the Kiwi from the road you need to find the viewing point, clearly marked off the Bulford Droveway. The afternoon is best, when the sun is shining on the Kiwi, otherwise it can be difficult to appreciate exactly what you are looking at. The white chalk stands out against the surrounding green vegetation. You can only appreciate the size and scale of this national bird if you climb the hill and walk around the site. Its height is 420 feet and the beak 150 feet long. It is surrounded by a modern wire fence and two gates. Inside the south-east gate is a commemorative stone with a plaque. The climb, particularly if tackled at an oblique angle, is not over strenuous and the views are more than worth the effort! The walk can then be extended northwards along the top of the hill through the scrub and juniper bushes to find the remains of the trenches dug so that the men could train for the Western Front. You may hear the sound of small arms fire from below on the Bulford Rifle Ranges as you do so. The zigzag line of the “British” trenches can be clearly seen and also the round mounds that characterise the lines of “German” trenches. It is sobering to think of the many men who trained here but died in the carnage of France and Flanders. An unofficial cairn has appeared near the trenches to honour those who took part in the war. 99 New Zealand soldiers and one New Zealand nurse are buried in the nearby Tidworth Military Cemetery. For those wishing to trace the routes and places of New Zealanders who served in the Great War there is a specific government website called Nga Tapuwae (“in their footsteps”). For those who look for more evidence of the New Zealand and Australian support during the Great War for the “home country” it is also possible go further south and to climb the hill to see the well known Fovant Badges. There are two more recently restored badges at Sutton Mandeville. The outline of Australia is visible at Compton Chamberlayne and there is an Australian military badge at Lamb Down near Codford St Mary. VISITING THE BULFORD KIWI How to get to the Bulford Kiwi Postcode: SP4 9FB what3words: putts.charging.rhino Public Transport: 30 minutes by bus from Salisbury which leaves every 30 minutes. Try the X4. Find timetable >> Parking: The viewing point is clearly marked on the Bulford Droveway, branching off the A3028. There are plenty of places along the Tidworth Road to leave the car and choose either an indirect and sloping rote to the Kiwi or to go directly up the hill. When is the Bulford Kiwi open? The site is open from dawn until dusk How much does it cost to visit the Bulford Kiwi? The site is free to visit and there are no charges for parking either. Are there any facilities at the Bulford Kiwi? There are no facilities but there are loos, shops and restaurants in the nearby military town of Tidworth, or a great pub to try is The Boot Inn at Shipton Bellinger. Which is the nearest town to the Bulford Kiwi? Salisbury is the nearest town. See our Salisbury City Guide for details on how to get to Salisbury, locally owned accommodation, restaurants and shops, further places to visit and things to do.

Do you want to take the family out to admire festive displays and lights, but don't want to stump up the £100+ required for a hour or two at one of the country's stately homes displays? There are other options! Christmas light displays are a relatively recent phenomenon in the UK, but one that seems to be gathering momentum. When the National Trust introduced their Festive Trails in the gardens of various properties across the country a few years ago, the Christmas light display really took off. People can now pay to take their family around a section of the garden which is filled with an assortment of light displays, some of which look truly amazing. The problem for many people, is that the reality doesn't always live up to the promotional material, which would be fine if you weren't paying £20 - £30 per person for a ticket, but sticks in the craw a bit if you have - especially when you add on parking and travel costs. The promotional material vs. the reality (Left photograph © The Guardian) After you've parked in the mud swamp of the overflow car park and made your way to the entrance, you then spend the next hour or so being buffeted by the crowds as you inch your way around the mile long trail. The lights are pretty, but its hard to get close to them and it is impossible to get a photo of them without people in the way. You end up ejected into a heaving food court where you feel obliged to pay £3 for a mince pie and £5 for mulled wine in a plastic cup, just to make the event feel more festive and not be over so soon. You're cold and fed up with the screams from other peoples kids, have to trudge back to the swamp to get in the car and drive home in the dark. What are the alternatives to official Christmas Light displays? If you live in an area where people decorate the outside of their houses then obviously a walk or drive through the area can be a good idea - except that you inevitably end up in traffic jams in the more popular spots. Local farms often put on good displays, far cheaper than the bigger tourist sites, but still with the inevitable mud, queues and crowds. One place you may not have considered going to, is a garden centre. Some of them now go over the top with the festive decorations and lights, and the best bit about it, is that it is entirely free. They have become such an event that many also lay on overflow parking, food trucks selling hot chestnuts, mince pies and mulled wine, have thousands of twinkling lights outside and as a bonus, much of their displays are indoors, so you can go whatever the weather. Last year I visited the Whitehall Garden Centre in Lacock, a family run business who have several branches across the South West. I was somewhat overwhelmed by the astonishing amount of Christmas displays; there is more than just the countless rows of ornaments for you to buy, there are whole areas dedicated to some incredible displays. Even the areas dedicated to selling Christmas decorations are beautifully designed. They are all themed, so there is a silver section, red and gold, underwater theme, peacock, Alice in Wonderland, teddy bears, animal print, gingerbread house - more themes than you could imagine for the humble Christmas tree. There were plenty of kids walking around utterly entranced, and plenty of enthusiastic adults too. It was warm and dry, with few crowds. When there's no lockdown in place, cafes and restaurants are open, so you can easily spend a couple of hours there for a full festive experience. The outsides are often decorated with thousands of twinkly lights, laser shows and illuminated trees and plants. Food trucks provide sustenance such as hot chestnuts, hot chocolate, burgers - the whole array of snack food. Many of the places have Santa's Grottos for the kids, although you do have to pay for those. Even the shop areas of the garden centre can be well decorated, such as this section of Lacock Whitehall Garden Centre (photo) which was the Christmas lights shop, complete with a model train set of a winter wonderland. There is no obligation to buy anything, although it is hard to resist, and I considered myself lucky to just get away with one bauble in my shopping bag. So, if you are looking for a free alternative to the expensive displays, but still want the kids (or you) to have a lovely festive adventure, then you can do far worse than a garden centre. Do an internet search from around November onwards to find the places near you that are offering them, and you won't feel so bad about not paying through the nose for an official display. Even better, you don't have to book in advance, so you can be spontaneous, or even go more than once if you fancy it!

This once secret nuclear bunker is the deepest and largest bunker in the south east of England; originally built for air defence but turned into a regional government headquarters as the Cold War progressed. It is now open to visitors as a museum. Historical Backgroud of the Kelvedon Secret Nuclear Bunker In the 1950s, as World War II slowly transformed into the Cold War, a large area of farmland was requisitioned from the Parrish family near Brentwood in Essex, to build a bunker. The bunker was constructed in 1952 at a cost of £1,500,000, by the Air Ministry as a SOC – Special Operations Centre, which is an air defence station. Sitting on a gravel bed which would act as a shock absorber in the event of an attack, the bunker's walls are 10ft of reinforced concrete surrounded by a Faraday cage. It descends125 feet underground and consists of three storeys, with water tanks holding 24000 gallons of water above the bunker, albeit still underground. For a brief period in the 1960s the bunker became a RSG – Regional Seat of Government and as the Cold War heated up, it became a Regional Government HeadQuarters (RGHQ), the government spending £10,000,000 to transform it so it could house 600 people for three months, a mixture of government, military and civilian personnel, all tasked with continuing government operations and the survival of the population. The bunker was eventually decommissioned in the 1990s as the threat of nuclear attack passed with the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the Parrish family bought back their land, opening the bunker as a museum. L: The mast above ground held 120 telephone lines which fed down to the Home Office Radio Room below ground. R: A sketch of the bunker’s design and layout. VISITING KELVEDON HATCH NUCLEAR BUNKER It amused me very much to see road signs pointing to a ‘Secret Nuclear Bunker’, although the joke wore off a little as I got rather lost, my sat nav confused that I was looking for a field rather than a sensible main road. We got there in the end however, following a narrow, windy track into a bumpy field. Parking seemed to be rather random, just leave your car in the field, but as we got out we could hear excited voices in the woods nearby, where a high ropes course seemed to be providing much entertainment for families. We followed the homemade signage to the secret bunker, past metal sheds packed with eclectic assortments of old military vehicles, metal scraps and random junk. A tank rotting quietly under a canvas tent, collapsed damp fences and upturned signs bore witness to the recent storms that have been ransacking Britain. Around the corner materialized a small brick guardhouse, flanked by two greening, musty missiles looking very old and benign. These small bungalows were often how the military would hide entrances to secret bunkers; intended to look like small farm cottages and surrounded by trees to provide air cover, they would act as the main entrance where visitors could be vetted by the guards before descending to the depths below. You walk up the uneven steps to the entrance, where you are bombarded with homemade signs, barking out orders in a clamour of confusing advice. One sign said that they don’t take cards, just cash only, so it was back to the car to collect money and then back through the rain to the guardhouse again. Other signs tell you that you pay as you leave, that there is a £5 charge for being able to take photos, and that you must buy a permit in advance from the café to be able to take the photos. More signs tell you that you are on camera, ‘we are watching you’, so they’ll know exactly what you are doing. Having already had to trudge back to the car for cash, I wasn’t keen to start hunting around for the café, so I resolved to pay for my photo permit at the end. We stepped inside where I was all prepared to explain my lack of photo permit to the person behind the desk, but all there was was a video playing on continuous loop, instructing us to pick up ‘wands’ to take with us. These wands are audio guides, which my son decided he didn’t want to carry around with him. As we progressed a few feet down the tunnel, there were more signs, ‘you must have a wand, it is not optional, go back and get one’, and he scuttled back to get one, looking nervously at the cameras on the wall as he did so. We progressed down a long tunnel, 120m long, which had metal bed frames attached to the wall, a couple of old bicycles, ripped Health & Safety posters from 1963 and some random lead piping. Just what were we walking into? A 90 degree bend in the tunnel was there to reduce blast pressure and to help with defence. A small, darkened office filled with old technology and a corkboard covered with postcards declared itself to be the radio room, which had been staffed 24 hours a day, and the thought of spending time in that dark, dingy cupboard seemed infinitely depressing, the postcards and cheery looking map doing nothing to mitigate the gloom. We pressed on, my son clutching his wand like a talisman as we passed the cameras, following the white arrows marked on the floor as we headed deeper underground, past a weapons store with a uniformed mannequin wielding a machete and pointing a gun at us, past huge generators covered with buttons and dials, through steel blast doors and concrete corridors. There were more homemade signs shouting ‘Danger!’ at us, as well as signs from the Cold War era telling us to be on our guard, to not share careless talk and to use water sparingly. We found ourselves wandering through a network of rooms, with banks of machines, teleprinters, faxes on desks, scraps of paper in trays, chairs pushed back as if the occupant had just stepped away for a minute. There were endless rows of wires and outdated machinery, with recordings playing from some unknown source providing the rattle of printers, phones ringing or radio broadcasts shouting out instructions and providing disembodied commentaries. A radio broadcast booth which would have been used as the BBC Radio Room had a sinister mannequin of Margaret Thatcher with big, plastic hair behind the glass, lit up under an angle poise spotlight and surrounded by banks of buttons, switches, dials and wires. Doorways led to large rooms filled with more technology and signs, dark corners with mannequins asleep in bunk beds, illuminated green maps with their eerie light reaching out into the dimly lit spaces. Clutching the ‘wand’ and plotting in the map room while mannequins sleep in bunk beds in the shadowy corners, hidden from the ghostly green glow. We hadn’t seen or heard anyone else since we had entered the bunker, and it was starting to get slightly sinister ; each time we rounded a corner there seemed to be another mannequin emerging from the shadows, making my son jump. He started looking around nervously as we got deeper and deeper. ‘Stop taking photos’ he told me, ‘the cameras are watching us and we haven’t bought a permit yet’. HazMat suits and piles of geiger counters just add to the eerie feel Several rooms had smaller rooms leading off them, in which a film would be playing, projected onto the bare wall; crackly films over 30 years old that told us what to do in the event of a nuclear attack, how we could protect ourselves, what the sirens would sound like. My son asked, ‘Were you really all that scared, was it that real?’ and I tried to explain about life in the 1980s when nuclear attack was what we all worried about and how it was such an important issue. Although it seems like worrying over nothing now, people aren’t blessed with the benefit of hindsight and that just like the Y2K issue 20 years ago, these things matter at the time but seem a bit asinine years later. He looked dubious and we ploughed on. ‘Come on, stop taking pictures, it says way out’ A walk through the plant room that kept them all alive was dark and foreboding, with smells of oil and the the loud whirring of fans filling the air. It led us to a staircase and we went up a floor; I was being dragged along by my son who had seen a sign saying ‘way out’ – ‘come on, it’s scary’ he chided me. We ignored the signs telling us that if we hadn’t listened to the audio guide section about blast doors we were going too quickly; I had long since abandoned my audio guide as I found it to be too quiet, too fast to understand clearly and I was enjoying the sense of exploration without it. We entered a large, dark room filled with desks and old computers; this was the main Administration Floor where civil servants would have been based to coordinate the survival programme and communicate with other bunkers. More mannequins, some wearing gas masks, one looking like Judge Dredd in riot gear, and more desks covered in notebooks, telephones, chairs slightly pushed back, with the gloom stretching away from us, punctuated by the odd desk lamp. There was a supply room filled with old stationery supplies and piles of geiger counters against a wall, a desk in front of them that presumably once belonged to the Quartermaster or his civilian equivalent, ruling over his small kingdom of assets. Rumour had it that staff were expected to return the stub of their pencil before they would be issued with another. The white arrows then led us into sick bay, with more mannequins, some in scrubs, some on the operating table with bandages and canulas of dried blood, as in the bunker's incarnation as RGHQ, it had been a sick bay and a morgue. Before that, the area was used for battery storage. There were cardboard coffins and ones made of MDF, just propped against the wall, an ignominious end for those of us who hadn’t been vapourised. Dark dormitories filled with iron bunks and bare mattresses even made me think twice about walking in them, my son undecided between not entering the scary looking room or being left alone – he came with me in the end. Finally we reached the café, which was totally deserted, no staff, no diners, the kitchen area behind the till was deserted. More signs told us to leave our wands by the till and to pay in the honesty box, which I did, including for my photo permit, and treated us to some drinks and well deserved chocolate too. We took our supplies with us as I got dragged along, ‘come on, come on’, as we saw some glimmers of daylight, and at the end of a long corrugated tunnel, we saw the patch of light, with vivid green ivy and creepers hanging down. He practically ran out of there and we emerged into pale, watery sunshine. Returning to the car field, the excited screams from the high ropes climbers had all gone, there were no cars left in the car park, just ours. Where had everyone gone? Had we emerged into a post apocalyptic world after our time underground, what had happened in the timeless time we had been in the bunker? The feeling of unease and disquiet remained until we drove back up that puddly, winding track and onto the main road, where cars were driving along as if nothing had changed. We had rejoined the human race. I have to say that although my son found the whole experience slightly terrifying, I really enjoyed it. I have a soft spot for private museums that haven’t been over curated: I love that it looked as if it had just been left as it was, that scraps of paper were still on desks, that there were few glass display cases surrounding the artefacts, as it makes the whole experience so much more authentic. It may have been slightly chaotic and arbitrary, but that just made it more immediate and more realistic. It took me straight back to the 1980s and vividly brought back the whole nuclear fear we lived through. My son learnt a lot from the visit and although he had been a bit unnerved as we got deeper underground and realised we were totally alone, we had visited on a rainy week day in February and it probably gets busier and has more visitors at weekends and in the warmer months. VISITING KELVEDON HATCH SECRET NUCLEAR BUNKER Opening Hours 1st March – 31st October Weekdays: 10am - 4pm Weekends: 10am - 5pm 1st November – end February Thursday – Sunday: 10am - 4pm as well as school holidays Ticket Prices Adults: £7.50 Children (5 -16) £5.50 Facilities Free parking, café, picnic benches Kelvedon Hatch Nuclear Bunker website >> TIPS FOR VISITING KELVEDON HATCH NUCLEAR BUNKER Take cash as they don’t accept cards. Don’t be put off by the slightly intimidating signage at the beginning, I think its bark is worse than its bite. Warn kids in advance of what to expect.

There are times when public transport just doesn't get you to where you need to go, and travelling by car is the only option. A long journey on Britain's roads can often condemn you to stopping off at service stations for petrol, refreshments and rest, but they are expensive and soulless places with limited choices. There are however attractive and affordable alternatives if you just know where to look. British service stations have always been something of a national joke. They announce their arrival on a motorway with a countdown of road signs plastered with recognisable logos - the golden arches of MacDonald's, the red beans of Costa Coffee or the green mermaid of Starbucks - brightly coloured trademarks designed to offset the dreariness of the grey concrete motorway and entice you in to have a break and buy some convenient, processed food. When you get there you find a giant car park and a vast flat, ugly building, often filled with noisy arcade machines, small supermarket concessions selling horribly overpriced food and an endless choice of eateries which promise to serve you quickly and get you back on the road as soon as you can. The overpowering smell of frying food, the impersonal service and the wretched facilities all contrive to make the whole experience an unpleasant one. And if you want to stretch your legs a bit - forget it. You may be lucky to find some scrubland to walk on, but the thousands of dog poos and noise from the motorway means you dash back to your car as quickly as you can, just to get away from the place and onto your destination. Imagine the alternatives. Leaving earlier than you need to gives you the time to not just pull off at a service station but to leave the road by one of the exits and in less than a 10 minute drive you can often find yourself in unspoilt countryside where there is no traffic noise, you can stretch your legs in woods, fields or on a river bank; you can stop to eat in a locally owned café or pub where the staff are happy to see you; you can even pay a normal, un-inflated price for your petrol. Best of all, you can give your money to local people, not the multinational corporations, who really don't deserve it. In the UK, most service stations are owned by just three companies - Moto (owned by private equity firm CVC with $117 billion of assets), Welcome Break (owned by Applegreen who have an annual revenue of over £3 billion) and Roadchef (revenue of nearly £200million p.a.). Do you really want to give your hard-earned cash to them? There are some really good alternatives out there, and all it takes is a look at the map before you set off, and leaving a bit earlier than you would normally. Just work out where you are likely to want to stop, and find somewhere in the vicinity that will provide you with a walk/food/petrol. There are four good types of places to look for - Country Pubs Farm Shops National Trust properties Garden Centres The UK countryside has thousands of country pubs which are just off the main roads - their traditional clientele gone with the creation of the roads which keep their potential customers speeding past them towards a service station full of junk food. The pubs usually do excellent food, have friendly service and you will always be able to find a nice place to walk in the area. L: National Trust-owned Nuffield Place, just off the A4130 M: Edington Farm Shop, 5 mins off the A350 R: New Forest Lavender Gardens and Tea Rooms, an 8 min drive from the M27 Farm shops will often provide plenty of healthy, local food to chose from as well as places to walk and many of them have cafes on site. Garden Centres these days nearly always have a restaurant or a café, and give you a good walk outside. National Trust properties are great for members who will not have to pay to get in. There is always a café for something to eat and beautiful grounds to walk in. If you have the time you can visit the house too and really make an outing of it - there is no better antidote to the speed, noise and stress of the motorways. You may then have to drive a little further on to get petrol, but at least you won't have to pay the hugely exaggerated prices you find at the service station pumps, where they know they have a captive audience. If you don't want to do your own research about places to stop off, there are now resources out there to help you: Just Off Junction is a website where you can search by the roads you are driving on and find food, hotels, petrol stations and kids play areas - even pharmacies, supermarkets and car repair garages - all within a 5 minute drive of the junction. The site is free to use and companies do not have to pay to be listed on it, so you know you are getting all of the options available. The Extra Mile is a similar website which aims to "steer you away from mediocre, expensive motorway service stations and into the arms of the UK’s best farm shops, independent cafes, and cosy pubs, all within striking distance of a junction". They have a huge range of ideas of places to stop off at - from a Mongolian Yurt serving vegan food just off the M40 to a honey farm just off the A1 - there is something for everyone. Fabulous Farm Shops gives you the low down on farm shops across the country. The Good Pub Guide: you can search for pubs by location, read reviews and find out what facilities they have to offer. Petrol Prices.com: This site and free app helps you to find the cheapest petrol near any location in the UK So - I urge you to drive away from those awful service stations and vote with your wheels for the independent, local, sustainable and unique option.

Built at the turn of the 19th century, this small cob cottage was where English novelist and poet, Thomas Hardy, was born. Now owned by the National Trust, it is a great way to experience rural Victorian life, and to learn how his early years in the countryside formed the connection with nature which runs throughout his written works. In rural Dorset, near the small village of Higher Bockhampton, is an almost impossibly perfect thatched cottage, surrounded by a typical cottage garden and mature, towering woodland. It looks exactly how you would imagine a thatched cottage should look; small and rustic with irregular outbuildings, little windows tucked up in the eaves of the thatch, chimneys sprouting through the roof and creepers growing haphazardly over a central front door. Built in 1800 by Thomas Hardy’s great grandfather, this idyllic cottage was Hardy’s birthplace and home for a substantial part of his life. Born a rather sickly child in 1840, but with the advantage of a well read mother, he soon excelled at reading and writing. He was a pupil at the local school and then Dorchester Grammar, before becoming an apprentice to a local architect and draughtsman, and it was in this cottage that he would sit at his small desk and write his early poetry and novels. The cottage still looks much as it did when Hardy was living in it, with the exterior little altered. It is now owned by the National Trust, who have recently added a modern visitor centre – fortunately some distance away from the cottage itself. This is the starting point for any visit to the cottage, and is the only place where tickets can be purchased. With displays about Hardy and Victorian life, as well as how the Trust looks after the landscape, it is a good place to wait for your timed entry slot, as the cottage is so small that it can only hold so many people at a time. There are two routes to walk to the cottage, a trail through the woods or a more direct and flatter route along a gravelled country lane. The walk through the woods sees you immersed in woodland and beech trees listening to the bird song, the country lane has some lovely cottages to admire and a friendly horse or two in the adjoining fields. Whichever way you approach, the cottage emerges from behind swathes of lush and colourful foliage, the ground floor barely visible with purple buddleia, bright ox eye daisies and golden irises all competing for attention. Tall leafy trees tower behind, giving the impression that the cottage is hunkering down into the greenery. With worn, pale walls of cob, irregular brickwork and faded thatch, the cottage has mellowed into the landscape around it. Roses spill down over the small porch, ferns sprout up under windows, everything growing is intertwined and jumbled together in a crowd of greenery. The cottage itself is small and very homely. The first room you visit is the parlour, which was the heart of the Hardy home. With a stone flagged floor and deep window sills in front of the small windows, there is not much light coming in with the plants towering up outside. A huge open fireplace with a cast iron range fills a wall, wooden armchairs are grouped around the hearth, a large wooden dresser filled with willow-pattern china sits against another wall, and brass candlesticks and earthenware jugs complete the look. None of the furniture in the house was owned by the Hardy family, but the National Trust have done a fantastic job of sourcing authentic period pieces to really enhance the rural Victorian atmosphere. Violins and a wooden music stand fill the space, as Hardys’s father was a keen violinist and taught his son how to play. The next room is tiny and was once a scullery, but was used by Thomas’s father as an office; he employed nine men in his building firm and would pay them through the window at the back. A small Victorian fireplace is topped with a large wooden carriage clock, ledgers cover the wooden desk and a large dark bookcase sits snugly in the corner, all pointing to how the room would have been used. You have to wait to be able to go upstairs as it is just so small that only a few people can go up there at any one time. When you ascend those narrow, thick stairs with their worn carpet, chipped paint and brass stair rods, you end up on the top floor, where there are three white bedrooms with irregular wooden floorboards all linked together and hiding under the eaves, the thatch visible through the tops of the windows and beautiful views over the garden. All of the bedrooms are plain and only include the simple necessities of rural life. Rickety brass bedsteads, chamber pots, small wooden furniture and a few books and samplers. L: The parents bedroom contains a small wooden crib with a wooden snake in it, a reference to Thomas’ earliest memory being that a snake was found in his crib with him when he was a tiny baby, both of them sleeping peacefully, an event to which he attributes his love of the countryside and nature. All four Hardy children were born in this room. Thomas himself was thought to be stillborn but was swiftly resuscitated, a rare event in the Victorian days of high infant mortality. R: The boys' bedroom is where Thomas shared with his brother Henry, who was 11 years younger than him. Originally it had been his Grandmother’s bedroom and was separate to the rest of the house, but on her death in 1857 they opened up a narrow passageway and the boys were able to sleep here. Thomas would sit at a small wooden table or on the window seat to read and write about the countryside. His original table, given to him by his mother, is in the Dorset museum; the one here is a replica and you can sit at it and admire the same views. He liked to write while he was actually in the scene he was describing, and wrote many poems as well as some of his earliest novels here, such as Under the Greenwood Tree and Far From the Madding Crowd. The third room was his sisters' room, shared by his two younger sisters, Kate and Mary. It was his youngest sister Kate who bequeathed Hardy’s other house, Max Gate, to the National Trust, and who left enough money for the cottage to be purchased a few years later. Back on the ground floor is ‘Granny’s Kitchen’, which Thomas’ grandmother had as her main parlour and kitchen. With a small bread oven in which she burnt gorse from behind the cottage as her heat source, a large fireplace and a scrubbed wooden kitchen table, there are often costumed volunteers in here cooking meals and treats from the Victorian era for visitors to sample. The garden is essential viewing after the cottage. When I visited in late August, it was lush and verdant, with everything growing in one huge mass of greenery and colour. I have seen photos of it at other times of the year, when plants are cut, trimmed and tied, hedges are sculpted and the soil is exposed and tidied. I far preferred it as I saw it, tumultuous and wild with tendrils reaching out, apples ripening on the trees and colour everywhere. At the back of the garden is a wood and brick shed, filled with oil lamps, hay for thatch repairs, terracotta pots, beehives and assorted tools. This is where Hardy’s father would have stored all of the tools for his building work, as well as being the main outhouse for the garden, which was run as a small holding, with vegetables, fruit and herbs all being grown here to feed the large family. There is a large water pump in front of the house, where you can pump away until the water starts splashing out onto the stones below, something many visitors to the house just couldn’t resist trying. Once he was a successful author, Hardy built a house in the nearby town of Dorchester. Called Max Gate it is a typical Victorian villa; large and entirely suitable for his status as a famous author of the day, but I can’t help wondering if he missed the soft edges and rambunctious house and garden of his birthplace when he was living in his angular, well-ordered house in a busy Dorset town. Domicilium is the earliest known poem of Hardy’s, written around 1857, and is about the cottage and the land around it. Domicilium – by Thomas Hardy It faces west, and round the back and sides High beeches, bending, hang a veil of boughs, And sweep against the roof. Wild honeysucks Climb on the walls, and seem to sprout a wish (If we may fancy wish of trees and plants) To overtop the apple trees hard-by. Red roses, lilacs, variegated box Are there in plenty, and such hardy flowers As flourish best untrained. Adjoining these Are herbs and esculents; and farther still A field; then cottages with trees, and last The distant hills and sky. Behind, the scene is wilder. Heath and furze Are everything that seems to grow and thrive Upon the uneven ground. A stunted thorn Stands here and there, indeed; and from a pit An oak uprises, Springing from a seed Dropped by some bird a hundred years ago. In days bygone– Long gone–my father’s mother, who is now Blest with the blest, would take me out to walk. At such a time I once inquired of her How looked the spot when first she settled here. The answer I remember. ‘Fifty years Have passed since then, my child, and change has marked The face of all things. Yonder garden-plots And orchards were uncultivated slopes O’ergrown with bramble bushes, furze and thorn: That road a narrow path shut in by ferns, Which, almost trees, obscured the passers-by. Our house stood quite alone, and those tall firs And beeches were not planted. Snakes and efts Swarmed in the summer days, and nightly bats Would fly about our bedrooms. Heathcroppers Lived on the hills, and were our only friends; So wild it was when we first settled here.’ VISITING HARDY’S COTTAGE Opening Hours Daily 11am - 5pm Closed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday during the Winter months Ticket Prices Adults: £7.90 Children: £3.95 Free for National Trust Members Facilities Getting there: Cars are definitely easiest for this site which can be reached on the A35. Parking: There is free parking available on site for members, charges apply for non-members. Access: The site is not easily accessible. Blue badge parking is available near the house if you book in advance. The house cannot fit pushchairs or wheelchairs. Food: There is a café in the Visitors Centre. Hardy's Cottage Website >>

Wilton House is a stately home just to the west of Salisbury in Wiltshire. It is open to visitors from Spring until Autumn and also holds regular events and exhibitions. It is popular with visitors and locals alike, thanks to its beautiful grounds and adventure park for kids of all ages. Wilton House near Salisbury is a large country estate which has been owned by the Earls of Pembroke for over 400 years. From 871 AD there had been a large priory situated on the site until the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII. The lands were given to William Herbert, the first Earl of Pembroke, and his descendants still live there today. Part of the original house built for the first Earl still remains, but the majority of it was rebuilt after a fire in 1647, and it has been altered a few times since. The house and its grounds are Grade I listed and may be recognisable to many, as Wilton House has often appeared as a filming location for blockbusters including The Madness of King George, Pride and Prejudice, Tomb Raider, Emma and more recently Bridgerton. VISITING WILTON HOUSE There are two types of tickets to get into the estate: either house and grounds or grounds only. The grounds are extensive and include a Japanese garden, an adventure playground, entry to the Earl's supercar display and other exhibitions, which vary. Entrance to the house is for a self-guided tour around some of the public rooms, with a guide in each room to answer any questions. Wilton House The house is of a rectangular design, based around a central courtyard. All that remains of the original Tudor construction is the central tower of the east façade, to which two Georgian flanks have been added. The house was intended to be much bigger but was never completed to the original plans. Inigo Jones was probably involved in the design of the building and was most certainly involved in the interior of the main state rooms, which include the Single Cube and Double Cube rooms. Sixty feet long and thirty feet wide, the great room designed by Inigo Jones in 1653 was designed to house the family portrait collection painted by Van Dyke. With white walls embossed with gold fruit and foliage designs and a painted ceiling depicting the story of Perseus, this is an incredible room and quite breath-taking when you step inside. The controversial James Wyatt was the last famous architect to have input to Wilton House and he removed much of the original style, adding an unlikely Gothic element to the architecture. He did however add the gallery, where you can now see the collection of busts and sculptures collected from classical Europe in the latter 1700s. All of the main state rooms are included on the house visit, the highlight of which is the magnificent Double Cube room. As well as being a stunning room, it has a more recent historical significance -this was where much of the D-Day planning took place in 1944. Wilton House was requisitioned in 1940 by Southern Command until 1949. Much of the advance planning for D-Day took place here, primarily in the famous Double Cube room, which became the top secret Operations Room, where Churchill, Eisenhower and Montgomery were regular visitors. (Eisenhower's flag, which was hung at Wilton House while he was in residence, can be found on display in Salisbury Cathedral.) Wilton House Gardens The gardens are extensive, although not all are accessible to the public, but you still get a fair bit to wander around. There are wide open lawns dotted with cedar and other trees, and the River Nadder which winds its way through the lawns. Crossing the river is a beautiful Palladian bridge which was built in 1737. It is based on a rejected design for the Rialto Bridge in Venice and was built under the supervision of the 9th Earl of Pembroke. It is a beautiful example of a Palladian Bridge, but sadly not one you can walk on. The grounds also contain a Japanese Water Garden, woodland, the formal front gardens, a Whispering Seat, a 32 foot Egyptian Column from Rome and the kids adventure play park. For kids, the house can be just another stately home, but where Wilton really comes into its own for them is with its grounds. The adventure play park is a large one and consists of a smaller, fenced off area for under 5's, and a larger one for older kids. It has huge wooden structures amongst the trees with slides, scramble nets, climbing nets, boat swings, trampolines and more. Families picnic on the immaculate lawn while the children run around and play. The playground has something for all ages A visit to Wilton House makes a good day out for parents and kids, where the adults can soak up the magnificent Palladian architecture, stunning interiors, and kids can let off steam charging around in the fresh air. Events at Wilton House Regular events are held at the house and in the grounds. Easter Egg hunts, car enthusiast days, charity walks and more all take place here. There are also changing exhibitions which can be really good and are included as part of the Grounds ticket. VISITING WILTON HOUSE How to get to Wilton House Postcode: SP2 0BJ what3words: meanders.weary.topics Public Transport: The R3 and R8 run past Wilton House from Salisbury to Wilton and usually stop outside Wilton House. Find timetable >> Parking: If you are driving, there is a spacious free car park for visitors at the house. When is Wilton House open? May - September, Sundays - Thursdays 11am - 5.30pm How much does it cost to visit Wilton House? House and Grounds: Adult £15.50, Child £8.50 Grounds only: Adult £6.50, Child £5 Family tickets and concessions are available Are there any facilities at Wilton House? There is a café on site, an ice cream stall, and a gift shop, as well as all of the necessary facilities. Which is the nearest town to Wilton House? Salisbury is the nearest town which is good for visitors. See our Salisbury City Guide for details on how to get to Salisbury, locally owned accommodation, restaurants and shops, further places to visit and things to do. Wilton House website >>

Between Tidworth and Andover is the small town of Ludgershall, to the north of which stand the evocative ruins of a medieval castle and cross. Owned by English Heritage but free for all to visit, these ruins are a beautiful and evocative place. The early history of the castle is hazy, but it was probably begun in the late 11th century by a sheriff of Wiltshire. It passed to the Crown at some point in the early 12th century, and was then substantially improved in the 13th century by King John and his son, Henry III, who both used the castle as a hunting lodge. Three walls survive, and also the extensive earthworks around them (with, curiously, a private farm in the middle). It seems to have been a popular royal residence in the 13th century. Henry III is known to have visited at least 21 times and ordered many additions and improvements, including a great hall for dining and entertaining and new royal apartments. Two separate parks were delegated for royal amusement – the northern one was too small for hunting but probably staged other entertainments and tournaments which could be viewed from the castle buildings and earthworks. The southern one was much larger and kept well stocked with deer for the King’s pleasure. The castle was visited less frequently in the 14th and 15th centuries and by the 1540s had already been dismantled and much of it levelled over. The most prominent survival is the tower. It’s a great place to explore and walk around the two sets of earthworks, with the kids able to enjoy running up and down the banks. A woodpecker may entertain you from one of several of the tall trees on the slopes overlooking the castle. The Medieval Cross You can divert a couple of hundred yards south into the small town to see the remains of a 14th century cross. Most of these types of crosses were destroyed in the Reformation so, even though it is a struggle to make out the original features, it is good to see a rare example still standing. It was probably an impressive 6 or 7 metres high originally, and would have been richly decorated on each of its faces. The East face is the clearest, showing the Descent from the Cross, and has a helpful diagram and information board beside it to enable you to make out the scene of several figures, including Mary and Joseph of Arimathea, lifting the body of Jesus down from the Cross. Collingbourne Wood About half a mile to the north of the castle lies Collingbourne Wood, a large area of ancient broadleaf woodland, predominantly beech, which is great for walkers and cyclists. For cyclists there are wide tracks to the length and breadth of the woods, for walkers there are clearly defined narrower paths that crisscross the whole area. Here there is an abundance of wildlife, and several woodpeckers can be heard. VISITING LUDGERSHALL CASTLE AND CROSS How to get to Ludgershall Castle Postcode: Castle Street, Ludgershall, Wiltshire, SP11 9QT what3words: toads.piglet.seagull Public Transport: Regular buses connect Swindon, Marlborough, Andover, Salisbury and Ludgershall. The nearest bus stop is at the Co-op, which is 0.14km walk from the castle. Parking: There is a small free carpark with 4 spaces on Castle Street just 50 metres from the site. There is further parking in the town centre. When is Ludgershall Castle open? The site is open from dawn until dusk How much does it cost to visit Ludgershall Castle? The site is free to visit and there are no charges for parking either. Are there any facilities at Ludgershall Castle? There are no facilities on site other than a car park and the site is not staffed. Toilets and cafes are available in Ludgershall town centre.